The Mystery of Light Rev. # 1

The light makes edges of my curtains glow,

reflecting warm light across the wall

despite the leaden sky and constant rain,

recalling light from weavers long ago.

 

Grief tasks my heart to find its memory,

days born and ended in sienna’s glow,

when they brought iron soil to the fire,

and bound the fire to set the color free.

 

Although a day may find my thinking grim

as if good will were gone, behind me now

my future will reflect the colors brought

by all that light and beauty wrought within.

 

So much is taken with the passing years,

though grief, despair, and weakness, still remain.

If each heart touched by age will master fear

then change to transformation will be changed.

 

In transformation dare I to believe,

that courage and commitment can fulfill,

create a future in which love remains,

where lies and lust and power cease to kill.

 

Inhaling all that rage incinerates

I hold my life a gift and weep it clean,

the mystery is that this we can restore,

to feel, forgive, and deny evil form.

.

In this I strive to make of my life such

that touching, leaves it better for that touch,

blessed by the light as by a tear filled smile

the mystery, that no mystery can prevail.

 

Perhaps like the rainbows I have seen,

dispersion paints the covenant renewed

that all light sacrificed to darkness will

resolve itself into one lightened beam.

 

In this will dark disperse and light return

Is it only illusion, this dream that light lives,

fate cares, and loving intent creates beauty.

 

Despite faith, my certainty has been bruised.

Endless wars, the surrender of so many,

the loss of their light, their youth, their lives, and hope.

 

By light accursed, that by our will was slain,

to melt the faith of all who could believe, as

Hiroshima and Nagasaki, died

 

The awful truth of all complicity,

 

That conscious choice or not we have agreed,

for all atrocity we will not fight

is strength lent to the dying of the light.

 

I am tired again, as happens more often,

Still, today, the sun kissed curtains are enough

for me to remember, the beauty of light

and in this, for generations yet to come.

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